


Winter Bells

by misura



Category: Charlie Parker - John Connolly
Genre: Hospitals, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About a winter's evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Bells

Hospitals. Probably nobody's favorite place to be, especially not when you're waiting to hear if a good friend of yours is going to still be among the living tomorrow.

In the seat next to me, Louis shifted at the approach of yet another clipboard-carrying nurse. I'd seen enough of them this night to make me wonder if maybe the clipboard was part of their uniform.

We both braced ourselves for whatever news she might have to deliver – Louis somewhat less obvious than I, but I could tell that he was tense.

It turned out the woman next to me had become the mother (co-mother?) of a healthy young boy. She looked thrilled at the news. I tried to keep my face neutral, although it was probably a wasted effort. Likely, I could have jumped up and started dancing the conga without her noticing.

All things considered, I did not feel like jumping up and start dancing the conga.

The nurse-with-attached-clipboard left. If it had made her evening a bit brighter to be the bearer of happy news, she hid it well. Perhaps she knew too well that the next news she might be delivering would not be as good.

When the door to the waiting room swung open once more, it was Angel. He looked pale – paler than usual, that was. Someone had found him a clean shirt with a logo from the local football club emblazoned on it and a pair of jeans that looked like he was the first one to wear them.

The wheelchair he was sitting in suggested not everything might be well. Still, he was alive.

Louis rose slowly. There was no expression on his face that I could read, but Angel seemed to see something there to make him smile.

"A sight for sore eyes," Louis said.

The second miracle of that evening. I didn't think I'd ever seen Angel blush before.

Louis shook his head. "I look at you, my eyes go sore."

"It's the shirt, isn't it?" Angel asked. "And these pants – I swear they make me look fat."

"Don't think it's the clothes."

"The lighting, then. You get me home, I change into some decent clothes, you'll see."

"Fine plan," Louis said. "If only you had any decent clothes."

By the time we left the hospital, it had started snowing. Thick, white flakes that turned the sky gray and the road that particular kind of muddy you only get in Maine. By the time we'd gotten back to the apartment, the three of us were cold and wet, and not particularly concerned about either.

Louis assured me he'd make sure Angel stayed warm and would take his medicine like a big boy, even if he was, in fact, more closely resembling a little girl when it came to these things (or so Louis claimed). Angel told him what he could do with his medicine.

I went home, alone, wishing there was someone warm and living waiting for me there.


End file.
